love bite \ Isaac Night x f!reader [smut - bonding pt.2]
wordcount: 1.2k
content/warnings: smut 18+, vampire!reader, Isaac being an absolute simp once again (maybe ooc? who knows), lots of mentions of blood and consuming blood, unprotected sex.
a\n notes: I wasnt going to do a part two to this, but @isaacnights thoughts on part 1 had my mind reeling | masterlist
The night had started as any other had.
He tugged you to elevator shortly after final bell, saw to your comfort, large sheets drawn to cover the murky light from the windows and clock face, candles lit and lamps dampened, then started his work – strange equations flying from his lips, directed at no one in particular, as his body worked too slowly for his mind.
His usual frustration built, boiled, started to crease his forehead and the bridge of his nose.
It was your hand on his shoulder that had pacified him, the weight settling his flighty muscles, forcing air back to the bottom of his lungs—
How, in such a short time, that had led to your current position, balanced just barely on the edge of his hastily cleared desk, you weren’t sure. The hand on his shoulder now clawed at skin, shirts lost in the haze of time between then and now.
The hand not braced against him supported most of your weight, the flesh of your palm digging into small cogs and scraps of metal that had been missed by his hurried hands as he made space for you, his lips too busy with yours to pay his usual exacting attention.
His own hands were currently pawing at your waist, fingers digging into the skin not painfully, but enough to anchor himself as his lips trailed across your throat, heady breaths warming your deathly cold skin, following the trail of frankly obscene kisses he languished across your flesh.
His thighs met yours with every thrust, burying himself completely with each controlled roll of his hips, dragging depraved grunts from his throat – sounds that were reserved only for you, for the way your walls dragged him in, fluttering around him. He wasn’t rushed, but he was hardly reserved, aiming for that perfect sweet spot that had his name falling from your lips like a litany, the sweet sound of your devotion driving him to the brink of madness.
He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a surprisingly delicate hand tiling your chin to hold your gaze.
“Drink.”
Your breath caught in your throat under the weight of his demand, your mind already hazy, struggling to focus. “Wh-what?”
His thumb pushed between your lips, watching you expectantly, how your brows furrowed, confused, as he pushed up at your lip crudely, smirking as he exposed the gum, finding the fang half-burried beneath.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of.”
It was only a scratch, the sudden drag of his thumb across the sharp exposed edge, but the droplet masqueraded as an entree, soaking into your tongue.
Another sharp roll of his hips punctuated his repeated demand. “Drink. It's yours.”
There was no resisting. Not now. Not when he was all you could smell, taste, feel.
You could hear the grin in his groans as your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, threading into the curls at the base of his skull as you tugged him into you, possessed body and soul by the metallic twang that slid down your throat, tongue dragging across the skin as you searched for that quiet hum like some esoteric ritual, until you found your mark.
Unlike the thin skin of his wrist, the flesh at his throat didn’t snap. No, it gave way, fangs sinking beneath the surface slowly, finding purchase against the muscle and tendon until, at last, his blood spilled slowly, coating your tongue.
The growl pulled from his throat sounded through you, skin buzzing beneath your lips as you drew in mouthfuls, hot and sticky, spilling from the corner of your mouth as you gasped, tongue rushing to catch the drips as they threatened to stain his chest, running like scars across the pale expanse, catching at the edge of his metallic heart, disappearing into the intricate lattice work.
It wasn’t euphoria, it was sweeter. It was every nerve alive at once, it was Isaac filling you in every way he could, dragging across your twitching walls, coating your tongue, dripping down your chin, ghosting across your skin.
Overwhelming but not enough, pacifying and maddening, all at once.
This, you realised, was how you wanted to spend your eternity.
The thud of his hands against the table edge resounded around the hollow workshop, tingling fingers clawing to find purchase as he fought the spreading numbness, knees weakening, vision hazing.
“Isaac!—“
Any attempt at protest was hastily silenced, a shaky hand gripping your jaw with half the intensity you were sure he’d intended, smearing his blood across your chin.
His hips stuttered, pupils blown, skin slick. In the pale glow, he resembled a madman, curls sticking to his forehead, others sticking at odd angles from your fingers’ rampage...
You couldn’t help but think he was beautiful.
The crush of his lips against yours, matched with the sudden roll of his hips, forced the sterile breath from your lungs.
He revelled in it – tasting what you did. He wished only that he could feel it, too. To live inside your skin for but a moment, to understand what it was to be nourished from devotion alone. And for you, in his, to know what it was like to be loved by you.
His hips stuttered, rhythm failing him as he overwhelmed himself, the smear of blood staining his chin as your tongue rolled across his, letting you take what you needed as he devoured you, blood tinged fingertips slipping between your bodies to find your clit, rolling over the swollen bud messily, lacking his usual finesse as his usually sharp mind clouded, starved of oxygen as he bled for you, willingly.
Your gasp near pulled the air from his lungs, your body shuddering against his as you came undone, hands gripping at the forearm pressed between you as he refused to let up, your fingers pressing into the newly-scarred skin an invisible force trapped your body against his, stopping your quivering hips jerking away from him as he fucked you through it, lips barely leaving yours as he swallowed your cries.
“My love—” it was a ragged, depraved plea at best.
But it was all he needed, tumbling over the edge himself, hips stilling against your thighs as he positively trembled, head dropping to your shoulder with the force of it, mind swimming, lightheaded.
Your shaky hand found his hair again, stroking down the sweat-curled locks as he panted against you, red-stained lips ghosting across your throat, barely-there kisses blessing the skin, crossing your empty pulse with what remained of his energy.
Even now, you couldn’t resist, the inordinate scent of him flooding your senses, the angle of his head offering the blood-soaked skin of his messy throat to you as if it were a platter.
Your head bowed, tongue dragging along the two small holes in his neck, catching the slow seep of life that risked being wasted.
“My beautiful boy…”
The words, muttered against the clammy column of his throat, drew a whimper from his chest, forehead pressing heavily into the crook of your neck, the exhaustion settling deep into his bones, veins turning to ice. “Thank you.”
He realised, then, that despite the pathetic fool you reduced him to, the loss of faculty he otherwise prided himself on, he would have you do it all again in an instant – his life in your hands.
He realised, then, that you were the one thing he would never be able to quit.
Until I get one of the longer fics done..imagine—Tim knows he can't run, he sprained his ankle when he tried sprinting away from the insanity of the manor, only to misstep (oh, how juvenile.)
His back is pressed against a hefty tree trunk, gasping as he holds his silver mirror as his last line of worldly defense. Hes bleeding, and he's sure he cracked a rib somewhere in the scuffle when Nightwing revealed himself to be the king of the vampires.
But dick, using you, of all people, against him?
What a low blow.
"Back," he's huffing now, trying to breathe only for the pain to jut him in the lungs. He must take careful, measured breaths. "I said stay back."
It's almost adorable, really.
"Timmy," he hates how you say that name with such a lilt that makes him feel things he's always kept confined within his throat. "Come on, Tim, let me help you, I can make it stop, timmy."
"Back. Off!"
He sticks out the mirror again, the only thing keeping you at bay, circling him slowly.
You stick your hands up. "I'm not gonna kill you, tim. Why would I do such a thing?" You sound like you always have—you sound innocent. You sound like confident, sure, outgoing you. "Timmy.." your voice trails off, and it devolves into a soft rasp of a whine.
"I want you to live with me forever."
That knocks the air out of his lungs in a way that his cracked ribs never could.
He doesn't drop the mirror, nor does he stop that stance to try to make himself bigger than he is (you've always likened him to a cute kitty-cat), but you see the way his arms begin to shake, to falter.
Both out of exhaustion and realization.
"Liar." He whispers.
But now he isn't as sure.
Its you—he knows it's you. You dont lie, you never lie to him. If anyone, really. But even then, whenever you lied, it was poor to those who knew you well. The way you fiddled with objects, beat around the Bush before a story began to conjure in your head which you then spewed out quickly, the way you always seemed more jittery, eyes darting as if chasing something nobody could see..all telltale signs whenever you lied.
But you're not "you"—you're a vampire.
His heart pumps erratically beneath the red robin suit.
Tim's always felt something towards you. He's always felt feelings that he brushed off as merely 'mutual, friendly affection'. But he never felt that way towards Kon or Cassie or Bart, or any other of the titans. He never felt that way towards his friends or anyone of the like.
He grew to accept that this was something else. Love, that's what you called this fondness and internal bias to place you on the shiniest pedestal in the world.
And if you were smart enough to exploit that? Then fuck—you're not who he knew.
That man he loved must've died somewhere then.
You pause in your tracks, before him, now. And you pull out something from your pockets, fondling with a small white ball in your fingers, you slowly unfurl it, holding it up, keeping your hands in the air. He's reluctant to read the big words written on the paper.
"Dont react to this or say anything. He can hear us. I'm going to kill Dick. Help me, Tim."
You watch the way his eyes slowly shift from you to the paper, and the way his eyebrows begin to furrow as you follow his eyes read every word you scribbled in the few moments of privacy you had away from dick.
Now his face drains of color as the mirror begins to tremble, his fingers shivering.
"Timmy, you're injured." You say it slowly. Clearly. "I can make it better, timmy, please, let me help you." You step forward slowly.
Where you expect him to raise his hands and hold the mirror again, he is slack.
You're telling the truth.
"Timmy, please, I want to stay with you. Forever." Youre shaking. You never thought this was how youd confess your own love to him, after he watched his father die at the hands of his older brother, and the massacre that followed.
You never thought things would be like this—but here you both were.
"What about when you grow old, timmy? What if you die young? I can't stand a world without you. Please, you can't leave me." The way your trembling too as you slowly approach him..
You can't be lying—thats...
Fuck.
Hes caught off guard. His fingers are numb from how hard they hold the edges of the mirror, they are white, now. He feels the pressure suddenly alleviate as the mirror falls to the floor, and suddenly, hes devoid of all fear, as his heart stops.
So this is it, he thinks.
Life was nice while it lasted, he supposed.
But you don't come running at him, tearing his throat out.
You walk slowly, until finally, you're before him. He closes his eyes, prepared; he'll die now, any second.
But your arms wrap around him in a hug, burying your head in his neck. Hes stiff, shuddering, expecting the moment you sink your teeth into him and finally suck him dry him right then and there, but nothing.
Just you, the guy he never stopped thinking about, crushing him and whimpering into the crevice of his neck like a child.
"Help me, timmy. Stay with me, my angel."
His knees feel weak as he wraps his arms around you slowly, his ribs ache, nerves screaming for distance as you hold him. He wants to tell you to leave, to go away, back away, he wants to kiss you, to cry into your arms, to hold you and mourn as an animal—animal but he can't do that.
Not yet, anyway.
He gently squeezes the nape of your neck. "O-okay.." his voice is so soft, it aches.
As you hold him, your lips carefully find his neck, your eyes soften, and you lift your head to whisper into his ear—"we'll marry, then dance on his grave together."
He closes his eyes as you finally sink your teeth into the tender flesh of his neck.
He'd be lying himself if he said he never wanted to be completely at your mercy.
How would you feel about vampire!reader x hunter!dean…
MAYBE EVEN A HISTORICAL AU???? IDK IDK IDK I WANT PATHETIC DEAN IN LOVW WOTH A MONSTER THAT DRINKS HIS BLOOD TO SURVIVE RATAHAHHHHH… even just head canons 😞😋
- 🌌
Mmmmm yes he’d be trained to offer up his neck to you so willingly. Every time he hesitates, remembers that he shouldn’t be doing this he remembers how good it feels to let you break the delicate skin and drink the thick, metallic liquid. His neck is salty with his hint of fear, because he knows that anytime you ask this of him it could be with the intention to take him out. When your teeth pierce the tender bulge of his vein he lets out a hushed gasp, trying to hide the way he can’t help but surrender to you. When the blood starts sinking past your canines he grips your hair by the scalp, needing some semblance of control even as you take him. He tries to hide the way his grip loosens without each swallow, pleasure and submission rolling through his body. You decide you’ve taken enough after his eyes are unfocused, desperately searching your face for approval.
Even after you’ve drank what you need he’s insatiable, rutting against you and doing his best to squeeze you close. You tease him, telling him you don’t want to take advantage of him when he’s so vulnerable, but all he does is assure you he wants it, he needs it bad enough that he doesn’t care how he feels later, only how he feels now.
i mean, we’re talking about two people who have such an incredible thirst to learn more, and here you are, a vampire of three centuries who’s experienced so much, knows so much, and this duo is nothing if not eager to learn
but frustratingly enough, you never want to give them the time of day, ignoring them thinking they’re nothing more than ‘vampire fanatics’, lusting after the secrets of forever or whatever current romantic tales are circling
but your denial just makes them more intrigued, eyes intent as you help guide their crews and teach them better techniques to improve their fighting.
or ways to improve their healing techniques when talking with chopper and the rest of the healing crew of the heart pirates.
the way you effortlessly bring up relevant pieces of history that help their journeys.
and their interest is especially peaked once they caught you out one night lurking for a bite to eat. the way you held the person against your body, lost in the blood that you didn’t realize they were there until they were too close.
your eyes red, fangs elongated and dripping blood, posture clearly giving off signals of warning to leave since you’re a predator and one wrong move and they’ll be your next prey.
but these stubborn, stubborn humans, walking closer, interest clear in their eyes. you sight heavily, grabbing the person’s chin to look them in the eyes as your pupils dilate “leave and keep pressure on the wound. remember to tell your partner to tone down their kinkiness and leave your neck alone for a bit.”
a small huff leaves both of them before their bodies freeze under your sharp gaze. your eyes haven’t changed back to normal, still blood red but this time containing something new that they haven’t seen directed at them.
pure, raw, hunger
“and look who just couldn’t keep away. shall i give you a taste of what you’ve so clearly been desiring?”
VAMP!READER, who has been a vampire for over 155 years, who has seen everything from the Spanish Flu to the Second World War. Who struggles to find her place in this new world and tries to get rid of the devoid emptiness inside of her that refuses to cease.
VAMP!READER, whose power is Psychic Hearing, the ability to hear in a way that isn't connected to her present senses, on distances beyond normal ranges, and can pick up sounds beyond her normal auditory range. On top of that, she can psychically perceive voices and other sounds from past events, future events or locations currently beyond what she can hear.
VAMP!READER, who met Carlisle after her transformation, who promised her a new life without all the torment and would give her a proper family. It took ages for her to be resistant to human blood, and can even last weeks surrounded in a pool of blood.
VAMP!READER, who grows to hate her vampiric nature, but knows that if it wasn’t for her death, she would’ve never met EDWARD CULLEN.
VAMP!READER, who dresses like she just came out of the Victorian Era, but a more modernized version of it. She’s known for her lethal gaze, one that can pick you apart with just a glance. Whose growl makes even older vampires slightly intimidated. But deep down, she’s a yearner. Underneath her observant and lustful traits is a girl who wants to be loved just as hard as she loves. Who wishes to settle down and start a new chapter in her life, one where she can just forget her past and do all the things she wishes she was limited to in her previous life.
VAMP!READER, who spends majority of her life with the Cullen family. Whose greatest frenemy is ROSALIE HALE. Despite their cover, Rosalie and Reader both love and hate each other’s guts. Rosalie is still very resentful of her nature and usually takes it out on Reader. Reader, even though she shares the same sentiment, has found some sort of peace with it and brings it up in every argument. While neither will admit, they care for each other deeply, seen as when they need a shoulder to lean on, the other is the only one that will understand them. And then they go back to arguing like there is no tomorrow. True sisterhood. VAMP!READER, though she is happy, she can’t shake the feeling of still being so empty; like she’s missing the final puzzle piece. Everyone around her can see it, her longing gaze, the wistful sighs. She thinks she’s being too selfish.
VAMP!READER, who after moving to Forks, meets BELLA SWAN. The first she notices is her scent but that’s not what makes her stay. It’s the fact that for once, VAMP!READER feels whole.
VAMP!READER, who knows that this girl will change her life forever and will do whatever it takes to protect her partners and her family. From good and evil.
Vamp! Reader and Human! Konig? :3 Riding him while drinking his blood hehe
yesssss
König x Vamp!Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Part 2
Master List
>cw: fem/afab, blood, p in v
1.4k word count
🧛🏽♀️
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Since König retired from the military, he’s been seeking new thrills in life. Horangi told him about a ‘vampire’ club in the heart of Budapest. This piqued his interest; he took the almost three-hour drive one night and went looking for the hidden door to the underground club.
Dressed in black slacks and a black button-down shirt, his blonde hair slicked back and face shaved clean. König walks with a confident swagger as he sees a group of goth men walking down an alleyway. He follows behind at a safe distance. They arrive as a staircase that leads to a red door.
König approaches as the bouncer looks up at König, smiling at him, exposing fangs. König’s scarred face remains stoic.
“Have fun, handsome.”
König nods and enters the club. The music was loud and the lights low. He walks through the crowd of people to see a man sitting at a booth with two goth aesthetic women at his sides. His shirt was ripped open and their mouths were patched to his neck and chest. König lingered for a moment to realize what he was seeing. Small drops of blood drip from their lips as their hands explore the man’s body.
He turns and bumps right into you. You stare up at him and smile, flashing fangs as your eye’s onyx black. König studies you, trying to take in everything he can about you. There is something that is just calling him to you. His mouth drops open to speak, yet nothing comes out.
“You look like a lost puppy.” The sound of your voice is smooth and sensual.
“Your fangs look real…how do you do that?”
A soft giggle leaves your lips as you raise a hand to caress his arms. “They are real.” He reeks of sexual tension, lustful thoughts clouding his mind.
König laughs, his blue eyes trailing from your eyes down to your lips and cleavage. The tight black dress you’re wearing leaves little to the imagination. “So, you’re an actual vampire?”
“What? You don’t believe in vampires?” Your icy hands meet his.
“It’s just…hard to believe.” He looks at your small hand in his. Your skin is ice cold.
Another woman walks by with two marks on her neck, fresh blood trickling down as she’s led to the back by a taller male. “Are you all vampires?”
“Most, other than the donors that come.” You can smell how sweet König’s blood smells as you stay close to him.
“Donors?”
“Humans that give blood to vampires willingly… isn’t that why you’re here?”
“I—” König gazes down at you. “Yes.”
“So, what’s your name?”
“König. You?”
“Y/N.” You grab his hand and walk in the direction the couple before was.
König lets you drag him, following you without hesitation, as if you’ve hypnotized him. You move past a red velvet curtain that leads to a long hallway of rooms. Moans and grunts can be heard from behind the doors. He can feel adrenaline rush through his body as you turn and open one of the doors.
Inside, the room looks like a motel room, a small couch and a queen size bed. He walks in and looks around. The lights in the room give a red hue to everything around. König hears the sound of the door's latch closing. He turns and looks at you, eyes trailing down your body.
“So, what do we do from here?” His voice is low, cracking as he feels an indescribable lust for you.
“I think you know…” you reach behind your back and begin to unzip your dress, “what we do next.” Your dress slowly peels away from your body.
König swallows hard as he sees your full breasts, supple body, and delicate curves. He can feel his pants tighten as his cock hardens. You walk to him, grasping his cock through his pants. A shuttered breath leaves his lips.
“Why don’t you get more comfortable?”
König nods, his hands begin to fumble with the buttons on his shirt, only unbuttoning it half way down before he begins to undo his pants for you. You push him back; he lands on the couch behind him. You’re surprisingly strong for how small you are. It arouses König.
His erect cock free, standing upright as his pants rest around his thighs. König reaches out to grab your hip with one hand, guiding you to him. You can hear the sound of his heart beating quickly, his blood flowing through his veins quickly.
You straddle his waist, your vagina lingering over his cock. His smell overwhelms your senses, you just want to bite down on him. A small moan leaves your lips as König leans forward and flicks his tongue over your nipple lightly, eager to please you and be pleased.
“You smell…so sweet König.” You grab some of his hair and pull his head back.
König looks up and sees your black eyes now tinted red, slowly lightening. He looks at you in amazement, always thinking the supernatural was false. Your pillowy lips press against his in a passionate kiss. He groans into your kiss as his hands pull you down to his cock.
The tip slips in, causing you to moan. Your cunt clenched around him, warm and soaked, ready to accept his cock. His hips thrusting up into you more, he feels as if he’s been overcome with lust. He can’t control himself. He has to have you.
König easily fell under your spell. Your eyes red from hunger. Hands resting on his chest as you bounce your body up and down on his fat dick. You can feel his pulse through your palm on him. It’s becoming too much to ignore.
His hands wrap firmly around your ass, guiding you through the motions. König’s eyes close and his head drops back, completely exposing his neck to you. There is no more holding back.
You lean forward slowly, listening to König’s moans. Your teeth come out, aching to sink into his flesh. Lips touching the left side of his neck, you sink your teeth into him. A loud groan leaves his mouth. König leans his head more to the right to allow you more room.
His blood fills your mouth, your eyes flutter back as the warm coppery taste of his blood consumes you completely. König’s fingers grip your ass tighter, thrusting up into you harder. The pain from the bite, your tiny whimpers into his skin…he feels a raw primal lust for you.
“Fuck, y/n…” König grits his teeth as his big arms wrap around your body and hold you close to him. The plopping sound of your ass slamming down on him.
Retracting your fangs from his neck, you pull away and lick the blood that continues to drip out. Your now warm lips kiss up to his jawline, leading to his lips. König can taste his own blood on your lips.
“More.” He begs, the feelings of you drinking him is almost enough to bring him to orgasm in itself. His cock slipping in and out of your velvety cunt, he’s found heaven on earth here with you.
You trail your kiss back down his neck, without warning you bite down again. A louder groan leaves König’s lips. Your hips begin to rock on his cock, his hands drop to his side and lets you drink from him and ride him.
König feels as if he’s entered a trance-like state. His cock experiencing the highest form of ecstasy, traveling through his body. You feel a rush of energy, your hips moving faster than humanly possible on him. He can feel his blood dripping down his body, your fangs deep inside of him.
“Y/n…I…” König can’t even speak as his hands grab the cushions of the couch tightly. A haze comes out his thoughts as he feels light headed. No more words, only moans leave König’s lips as his cock pulsates deep inside of you.
Your lips stay latched to his neck; his arms wrap around you as he cums. Reluctantly, you pull your head away from his neck. You desperately lick at the sweet drops that continue to pour out, dripping down his chest.
“You taste perfect, König.”
“You…” König can’t even speak after experiencing you. Can a human experience even compare after you?
A cold hand caresses the side of König’s face. His chest rising and falling quickly. He looks at you through half lidded eyes, completely enamored. “Can…can we do this again?” He almost begs.
“Absolutely.” Your hands cup the sides of his face. “You know where to find me.”
“I don’t think I can be without you…” König whispers as his eyes trail down to your blood-stained lips.
If youve read some of my revent work, i think you can understand my fascination with vampires (or vampyres). Butttttt i realized i hadn’t written any vamp!reader for anyone in cod or harry potter
So this is my official vamp!reader x tom riddle shit post.
I like to think that Tom realized somethingwas different about you when he couldn’t read your mind using Legilimency. It was sixth year at this point and you were a kept-together, quiet student. As a Slytherin, Tom knew your name but nevr paid attention to you until sixth year: people whispered about you when you passed by, teachers were noticeably more lenient with you on almost everything, your magic was extremely powerful and you were well practiced, and how striking your features were.
Professor privilege (or ‘special treatment’) consisted of you attending most classes but ignoring everything that was going on. You never slept- Tom noted- but were always doing somthing else. The differing activities you preformed didn’t disrupt the class, but the fact that you always did something else in every class was definitely an eyebrow raiser.
Your magic was powerful. Powerful, honed, practised, strong, and memorable. Tom was intrigued by how fluid your wand movements were, how quickly you could cast a spell, how lethal your movements were, and your ability to cast spells without a wand. As a sixth year, wandless incantations were growing more and more popular. But the fact that you could preform duels without your wand- strings of spells- without so much as a twitch of the hand was extraordinary.
Tom didn’t want to say you were pretty, but in all honesty, you were incredibly attractive in Tom’s opinion. Your sculpted eyebrows paired with the stony stare in your eyes? The way your cheekbones hung over your guant face was further enhancing Tom’s interest in you. Your chin and jawline were prominent, a perfect mix of sharp and piercing.
Going more in depth in the people gossiping about you wasn’t really necessary. Some people- boys- were attracted to your facial and body features, ‘spcial treatment’, and just wanted to have sex. Other people- girls- were jealous of the interest many of their boyfriends gave you, were jealous of your smarts, and didn’t like you. You were powerful and you knew it. People didn’t like that.
These traits led Tom Riddle to the jarring conclusion that you were a vampyre. town further prove his theory, Tom often caught a glimpse of you wandering the corridors at night, paying no mind to the prefects and head boys and girls that saw you. You conversed easily ith the portraits and spirits- even befriending Peeves.
Evan Rosier was the one to bring up your existence during a Knights of Walpurgis meeting. Tom had listened to Rosier’s ideas- involving you with their agenda and bringing you into their organization.
Tom had his doubts. He believed that you were not the right person to try to convince. Tom protested for no real reason. He himself didn’t even know why he was tensing up around your name, growing defensive as the conversation continued. Why?
Coincidentally Tom Marvolo Riddle came across you striding into the Forbidden Forrest that very same night.
He didn’t know why he followed you. Tom didn’t know that, for some reason, you intrigued and infuriated him to no end. Why must you effortlessly best him at every activity? Why must you look so unbothered after singlehandedly destroying three seventh year Quidditch players after making a bet that you couldn’t win against them as a 3 versus 1? Why, pray tell, were you the only person on Tom’s mind after seeing your sly smirk when you stumbled across something undeniably inappropriate in your book? Why you? Why-
“Stop thinking so loudly.”
Tom stood- frozen- as you moved into an open clearing. You clicked your tongue a few times and whistled. After doing it a few times in a pattern, Tom realized you were summoning something.
“What did you follow me for?” Your voice was crisp and audible despite the distance between the two of you that was closing slowly. Tom inched forward, hesitating for one of the few times in his life.
“Why did you sneak out? I could report you to the headmaster for this. You’ve done this before, so I could get you in trouble for a long time.”
You showed no reaction as you tilted your ear up. You whistled again. “Step back, please.”
Tom didn’t know why he complied but he did. A second later, a large winged animal emerged from the trees. A hippogriff, Tom realized. “Did you hear me? I said-“
“Do even know my name, Tom Riddle?” You finally turnd around. Your face was even more haunting in the moonlight. “If you have seen me sneak out numerous times before, why haven’t you already told anyone? You have nothing to blackmail me with, so I am confused by your reasoning for following me.” You watched Tom for a second. The hippogriff whinnied shyly behind you and you immediately turned your sharp gaze away.
Tom realized that he liked your sharp eyes on him. He liked when you looked at him like you could crush him- knowing that you could, in fact, crush him. But then Tom realized that you knew his name.
You cooed and murmured something to the hippogriff that was inaudible to Tom. You patted the animal’s side and mounted the beast. You cooed a few more words at the animal before turning to Tom. “If you come with me, I can answer some of your questions. You’re an awfully curious fellow, Tom. Very smart…”
“You can read my thoughts?”
“Like an open book,” you snickered. “I’m leaving in ten seconds- as does your opportunity for answers.”
The hippogriff’s feet stamped anxiously, eargerly awaiting departure.
Tom’s jaw set. Did he really want to? He couldn’t answer the question as he took a step forward.
“Bow first,” you commanded quietly.
Withholding a scoff, Tom scoured the animal’s eyes before bending down at the waist. The blasted animal waited until Tom’s entire core burned to caw and return the bow.
Tom struggled to mount. He couldn’t quite wrap his arm and get his leg up to the beast. He glowered, hearing your breathy chuckle. “Help me.”
Your eyes seemed to smile. You reached out a hand and waited impatiently for Tom to take it.
Despite how impressed Tom was at how easily you lugged him up, he grumbled. “Where are we going?”
“To eat,” you replied simply. “Better hold on, Tom, I ride fast.”
Tom grumbled. He didn’t want to hear the coyness in your tone at the last sentence. “I don’t need to hold on.”
Suddenly, the hippogriff lurched forward and Tom’s throat let out a choked cry. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist and scooted further into you as the beast rose into the air. He grumbled some more after prying his forhead from your shoulder and opening his eyes.
“There’s food at the castle,” Tom whispered with a ragged voice. “What are you going to eat?”
“Not the kind of stuff I need,” you chuckled. “They don’t keep fresh blood for me there.”
Rhysand and Y/N rush back to the River House to find the aftermath of Azriel’s bloodlust. Y/N comforts Azriel as she grapples with the memories that have begun coming back to her.
Part 3 ~ Part 4/Prequel - Neon Moon ~ Masterlist
warnings: non-con/dub-con elements (please be advised as this will be an element going forward as we work on unpacking Felina / Y/N’s past), sexual content, blood (vampy things), language, MDNI, 18+
“Azriel” I whisper.
My mate is in a corner, bound by his own shadows, barely visible through the stray ones obscuring him.
Feyre, fortunately, is fine. I hear voices behind me. My brother checking that his mate is truly well and unharmed. A feather in his jaw is the only sign of his true state of despair as he tries to remain composed before her and myself. I’m sure Azriel will get a tongue lashing later, but for now, all I care about is his own well-being.
I step into the shadows with Azriel, kneeling by his side. His body quivers, tensing as I lean into him, “Don’t.” He chokes out.
“Azriel.” My palm lays flat on his forearm, his cool skin blending in with the chill of my own. Damned Vampyr blood, I miss the warmth of my fae blood coursing through me.
“You won’t hurt me. I am not afraid of you.” His teeth grit but he looks to me, pupils blown so wide that the golden-flecked hazel of his eyes has nearly dissipated. “It was blood-lust, a matter which you have no control over. Everything is alright now but we need to get you upstairs.”
He’s silent, head hanging low, entire body still quivering. A small shake of his head barely registers as he succumbs to his own self-loathing. The shadows beneath his eyes mirror the despair flowing from his end of the bond. “Feyre is okay. You, too, will be okay. But you need to feed now or this will get so much worse.”
Before he can object, my fingers gently grasp the mottled, tan skin of his wrist and I winnow us to our room.
“It’s okay, Azriel.” I whisper upon deaf ears. “You can’t help this. It will be fine.”
The shame that now radiates freely through our bond nearly causes me to stumble. The noble Shadowsinger, protector and defender, succumbing to the basest of instincts that are hard enough to quell for a well-controlled vamp, let alone one as recently turned as he. This isn’t his fault. Once he’s fed, we will speak on that but for now…
“Azriel. I need you to focus on me.” His gaze meets mine and this time it holds something else. His nostrils flare, scenting me and the familiar fragrance of our chamber that he’s become so accustomed to recently. My hands guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and I straddle his lap, his hands instantly grip my hips, pressing me down against him. One would think the move was sexual, but I was well-aware it was the grip of a predator entrapping his prey.
“Feed.” I whisper.
A brief flicker of question crossed his steely gaze as he fights the urge to latch on desperately.
“Azriel. Now.” The authoritative tone in my voice seems to do the trick as before the command has finished crossing my lips, his elongated canines flash and he’s on me.
“Take what you need, Az.” The brief sting of his fangs puncturing the pulsing, delicate skin of my neck elicits a slight gasp from my throat. With a deep suck and a needy whimper, Azriel begins to feed, his tongue lapping at the blood pouring from my skin.
His hands roam fervently, the lack of control apparent as they can’t seem to settle on where to rest. Eventually one scarred hand reaches my breast, squeezing and caressing, his fingers tweaking and pulling a nipple until it’s peaked.
The frenzy begins to affect me, a wash of euphoria leaving a light geeling - a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the day.
In moments, I’m lost to it, fighting to stay present as Azriel’s laps grow vigorous. With a flip, he has me on my back, pinned beneath him on the bed, he takes a particularly long draw of blood ending with his hips grinding into me.
Eventually, his feeding becomes slightly more relaxed and less frenzied, the more primal kind of lust only beginning.
I dig my fingers into the raven locks of his hair, focusing on the sensation, steadying myself against the intoxicating blend of lust and hunger.
The warmth of his tongue against my neck is like electric to my nerves as jolts of pleasure course down my torso and straight to my core.
I need him. Fuck. I need him so badly.
No, I don’t need. I want. And there’s a difference between the two.
Just like in the days after he’d turned, after we’d accepted the bond, the urge to feed and claim wash away any semblance of reason or control from my mate. But I’ve been turned long enough, I can ground us and prevent it from going too far. For once, I have the freedom of control. I wasn’t always so fortunate.
“Az” I whimper as a finger slips under the panties beneath my skirts. He groans at the wetness he finds awaiting him. I rock my hips against his hand in a plea for more friction but he pulls it back, adjusting himself between us until I feel the girth of his head prodding at my entrance. He withdraws his mouth, wings flaring slightly with the motion as he stares into my eyes, so deeply I swear he can see straight to my soul, and all the darkness lingering within.
Without breaking eye contact his hands grip my waist and spear me down the length of him. I throw my head forward, letting out a muffled scream into his shoulder. I stay still, chest heaving as I catch my breath, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, his size is jarring in the best of ways.
“Perfect.” Azriel growls when I give a little shift of my hips. His hair tickles my ear as he leans in to press a surprisingly tender kiss to my neck.
I lean back, the motion sending crashing waves of bliss through me. I meet his eyes this time only to find that his gaze has now softened, his pupils not quite as wide.
“Welcome back.” I whisper, brushing aside the stray hairs that have fallen over his forehead, marveling in the beauty of my mate.
He blinks and I could almost swear that tears cast a watery glaze over his hazel eyes.
“I’m.. so sorry.” He choked out.
“We’ll talk later, Az. Right now it’s just you and me. What do you need?”
I start to lift off of him giving him the space he needs to collect his thoughts but he grips my hips even more firmly.
“Stay?” He requests.
My smile doesn’t meet my eyes as the pain in his own cracks the armor over my heart. “Always.”
I loop my arms around his neck and he loosens his reign on my hips, instead wrapping his arms tightly around me and pulling me to his chest. I rest my head against the muscle there, soaking in the moment.
The kind of moment I now remember that I wished so desperately for centuries ago.
I won’t focus on the sting of the memories that have recently come back to me. We will have time to talk things through and I haven’t been able to discuss much without losing myself to trauma yet. I’d much rather soak in this moment than ruin it with my hyperventilating. I close my eyes and revel in his grip.
“My mate.” Azriel whispers. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”
I won’t let him see the way the words impact me. The hell that I went through to be here in this moment. The way that his hold leaves me entertaining the thought that it could possibly have been worth it all. The way that thought itself slices deep through me.
Stray tears fall over my bottom lashes onto his chest. If he feels them he doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m not in the right mindset yet and won’t press. Another reason that I’m so grateful for this male.
Instead I close my eyes and focus on the two other words he’d whispered. “My mate.”
I replay it over and over in my head until I drift off to sleep, my mate still buried inside me.
———————-
“The child is yours.”
“Impossible.” The cold voice replies, grating against the very marrow of my bones.
“You know very well that it’s possible.”
A discontented hiss crackles through the tension filling the space between the beautiful, cruel male and myself. His ethereal features the mirror opposite of his rotten insides. I wonder if death would have been kinder than this.
“I hardly imagine that a fetus could survive what I did, let alone the agony of being made into..” I swallow the lump of disgust in my throat, knowing better than to push him too far. “This.”
A cruel grin crosses his face, his freezing palm caressing my jaw, razor tipped nails break the skin of my cheek and I can smell the iron tang of the blood droplets forming beneath them. “and what exactly did you go through, my dear?”
I furrow my brow, trying to remember who and where I was before him. I know there was life before this but the memories are so blurred. I don’t know what’s real and what is fabricated. I remember waking knowing I was carrying a child but I remember nothing of the conditions leading to it, of whom had fathered it. It wasn’t the bastard before me, but if this child has any hope of survival, then I’ll have to play his game.
He only lets out a bone-chilling laugh, squeezing my cheeks tighter and pressing a kiss to my lips. His sharp fangs piercing my lower lip as he nips.
I resist the knee-jerk instinct to pull back.“Centuries here have been rather dull, I suppose I’m due for an heir at some point or another. It could liven things up in this space.” He gestures to the darkened cave, illuminated by fires and littered with ornate cob-web dusted trinkets he’s seemed to have collected over the years.
A knot forms in my stomach, clenching tightly. Let him believe the life I carry belongs to him, survive, it’s the only option. It’s the only way this child survives.
“Feed, dark one. You seem to be getting quite insolent in your current state.”
I hesitate as a small show of defiance before his voice gains a sharper edge.
“Feed.” He commands.
We feed and fuck for hours until he tires of me.
It feels good, physically, but it’s empty. Void of emotion. Much like me.
Warmth envelopes me and I drift away from that wretched cave, into starry skies twinkling in and out of dancing shadows.
——————————
I wake from my memory-infused dream state, opening my eyes to find Azriel’s wings draped around me. His muscled chest rising and falling in steady breaths against my back. At some point he must have removed me from his lap. I have no idea what time it is and I don’t care to find out.
I’m not in a cave. I’m safe and I imagine if a crevice formed between his wings I’d see his shadows dutifully cocooning us as well. I inhale the mist-chilled cedar scent of my mate, taking slow, steady breaths.
I am not in a cave with my captor.
I am safe.
I am home.
Tomorrow I will share what I can remember with him. I will tell him of my daughter. My eyelids grow heavy once more and I drift back to sleep.
